


hit me baby (one more time)

by void_fish



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate universe: BDSM, Impact Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_fish/pseuds/void_fish
Summary: Quickie handles the punishment. Always has, if Toff is to be believed.‘Why not Kopi?’ Adrian asks, one day.Toff shrugs. ‘Quickie enjoys it. Kopi doesn’t.’Adrian looks over at Quickie, taping his stick, chatting easily with Carts. He hums.‘Trust me,’ Toff says. ‘You don’t wanna find out how much.’





	hit me baby (one more time)

**Author's Note:**

> i refuse to apologise for a) the title b) the ship c) this fic.
> 
> I'm gonna drag everyone into adrian/quickie if it kills me
> 
> day four of kinktober, the people asked for spanking and spanking i have delivered (kind of.)

Quickie handles the punishment. Always has, if Toff is to be believed.

‘Why not Kopi?’ Adrian asks, one day.

Toff shrugs. ‘Quickie enjoys it. Kopi doesn’t.’

Adrian looks over at Quickie, taping his stick, chatting easily with Carts. He hums.

‘Trust me,’ Toff says. ‘You don’t wanna find out how much.’

-

Adrian-- kind of does, is the thing.

Public punishment doesn’t happen all that much in LA. It’s not like Arizona, where it’s basically every day and twice on Sundays, according to Mario, but every so often, they’ll finish a game, and Quickie will slough off his pads and drag a rug over the logo, a bench over that.

More often, whoever fucked up gets a hand on the shoulder from Kopi or Brownie, and Quickie will disappear into the training room to wait. It’s a little more dignified, less humiliating, but Adrian knows the whole team can hear the sound of wooden paddle on bare skin.

He’s pretty sure it doesn’t make the whole team shiver, though. He tries to ignore it, for the most part, but every so often, he lets his mind drift, and his gut clenches with the best kind of fear.

-

His rookie season, he-- got a lot of leeway. More than most, he knows, and he tries not to think about how that made him look to the rest of the team.

The third game of his second season though, he takes a penalty. He can feel Quickie’s eyes on him all the way to the box, and he knows his leeway has run out. It wouldn’t have been as bad if Calgary didn’t score just over a minute in, but. He plays as hard as he can for the rest of the game, hoping in vain that a goal might tip the scales back in his favour, but as they trudge back into the locker room after the loss, Kopi grabs him by the shoulder, firm but not rough, and nods his head in the direction of the training room.

Adrian glances over at Quickie. He’s unbuckling his pads, head low. He doesn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry. 

Adrian swallows, undresses as quickly as he can, and heads for the room, hoping no one will see him go.

‘Oh shit, Kemps!’ Brodz says, and suddenly all eyes are on him. ‘You fucked up, my dude.’

Adrian shrugs, a little awkward, a little desperate, and makes a break for the door before anyone else can say anything.

It’s surprisingly warm in the room. Lighter than he thought it would be, and there’s just a plain old physiotherapy table in the middle, with soft blue leather covering it. He sits on it and crosses his ankles, waiting. It’s easy to zone out, to try and ignore the twisty feeling in his chest.

‘Because it’s your first time,’ Quickie says suddenly, making him jump. ‘I’ll let you off for not knowing the rules.’

Adrian jumps down off the bench, flushing. ‘What did I--’ he stops. ‘Where do you want me?’

‘Start by taking your pants off,’ Quickie says, crossing the room to the small cabinet Adrian had missed the first time.

Adrian swallows, chews his lower lip. Quickie’s seen him naked a dozen times before, but never when it’s just the two of them. He peels them off, is about to throw them in a corner when he thinks about it, and ends up folding them, putting them neatly in the middle of the table. His underwear is still soaked with sweat from the game, and after a pause, he shucks those too, putting them on top of his underarmour.

Quickie hums, appreciative. ‘Quick learner,’ he says. ‘Because of that, you get a prize, kid.’

Adrian flushes a little, fights the urge to cover himself with his hands. ‘What do I win?’ he asks, braver than he feels.

Quickie opens the cabinet. ‘You get to choose if you want ten with the paddle, or twenty with my bare hand.’

He takes the wooden paddle out of the cabinet, running a hand over it. It’s beautifully dark wood, varnished until it shines. Adrian thinks about the crack of it over his bare ass and has to suppress a shudder. When he looks at Quickie, he’s smirking, like he knows exactly what Adrian’s thinking. Like he knows what Adrian’s going to say before he says it.

He puts the paddle on the table, next to Adrian’s folded clothes. ‘Feet apart, elbows on the table,’ he says. He doesn’t say ass in the air, but when Adrian-- well, when he assumes the position, it’s what happens. The table is low enough that his elbows are below his hips, and it makes his ass stick up in a way that leaves him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Quickie makes another pleased sound, and Adrian has to stifle another shiver.

He’s trying to will away the beginnings of an erection, but when a cool hand lands on the small of his back, his dick jumps, interested. 

‘I knew you sunbathed naked,’ Quickie says, dragging his fingertips over Adrian’s hip, where a tan-line would be, if he didn’t take full advantage of his rooftop pool.

‘You would if you could,’ Adrian says, and then snaps his mouth shut when Quickie smacks his ass, not too hard, but enough that it stings. 

‘Eleven with the paddle, then,’ he says, easily, and Adrian keeps his lips sealed.

‘Say thank you,’ Quickie adds, and Adrian forces it out, as even as he can.

‘Good,’ Quickie says, and then circles the table to pick up the paddle. ‘Repeat after me. Thank you, Sir. Please hit me again.’

Adrian hesitates, and gets a tap with the paddle on the top of his thigh.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ he forces out, flushing. ‘Please hit me again.’

The resounding impact almost makes his knees buckle.

‘That’s one,’ Quickie says, and he sounds almost _cheerful_. Tears have already sprung to Adrian’s eyes. He grits his teeth and waits for the next hit. He’s heard that tensing makes it worse, but he can’t get his muscles to unclench. 

Quickie doesn’t hit him again. Adrian relaxes a tiny bit, and turns to look over his shoulder. Quickie is standing there, paddle on hand, looking patient. The penny drops.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ Adrian repeats. ‘Please hit me again.’

‘Good boy,’ Quickie says, and hits him again, in the other cheek.

It alternates like that, right and left, until Adrian’s voice cracks on ten, and he sobs.

‘Last one,’ Quickie says. 

It takes Adrian three attempts to get the full sentence out. He’s so hard he feels like he’s going to explode. The last hit gets him square in the middle, right across both cheeks, and he gets knocked forward so hard his dick drags over the leather, leaving a trail.

He sags when Quickie takes his hand off the small of his back, takes a big, shuddery, heaving breath.

‘Well done,’ Quickie says. ‘Bigger men than you have cried at less.’

Adrian sniffles, thanks him again. 

‘You can stand up now,’ Quickie says. ‘We’re done.’

Adrian-- stays where he is.

‘Ah,’ Quickie says, slowly. ‘I see.’

Adrian ducks his head even more, turning an even darker shade of red.

Quickie hums, trailing his fingertips up Adrian’s spine. ‘You know,’ he says. ‘I could get used to this view.’

Adrian holds still.

‘I’m not saying you should take more penalties,’ he adds. ‘But-- if you ever found yourself in my area, well. I bet you’d look even better spread-eagle on my bed.’

Adrian almost swallows his own tongue.

Quickie leans in, snakes a hand around Adrian’s waist, wraps his fingers around his dick and strokes once, twice, three times, and that does it for Adrian, who curls in on himself and shakes through his orgasm.

‘I’ll wait in my car for fifteen minutes,’ he says, in Adrian’s ear. ‘Don’t take your time showering.’

  
  



End file.
